


A Miscast Spell

by SemperTardius



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, One-sided Allen Walker/Chaoji Han
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperTardius/pseuds/SemperTardius
Summary: Chaoji wanted power and distinction, so he tried to summon a demon to give him what he wanted. But his ineptitude costs that demon and all he loves dearly.Without his memories, Allen Walker is a mere demon shackled to a human master. His heart aches and pines for something he can't remember. He resigns himself to spend his life with Chaoji, trying to ignore the feelings in his heartBut neither one knows that Allen has not been forgotten; he has merely been lost.This is a Kanda/Allen story. All one-sideness is on Chaoji's end.





	1. A Miscast Spell

**Chapter 1**

**A Miscast Spell**

* * *

 

 

The demon straightened his outfit out on the bed, excitement fluttering deep within his stomach at the thought of being able to wear the crimson clothes at last. He picked them up reverently, mind wandering to the days and months and years leading up to this. How long he had waited. How long the journey had been, leading him up to this very moment. He could not even imagine how far he still had to go. The demon looked forward to such a journey, because it would not be traveled alone. Biting his lip in barely contained excitement, the demon pulled off his dressing robe, getting ready to pull on the silky crimson cloth. Someone knocked on the door.

"Are you getting ready, young master?" called a voice he recognized as the servant's.

"Yes," the young demon replied, though nerves made his voice quaver slightly. He still wondered if he was dreaming. Was it still night, and his body slept in wait of the next day? Or had all of these years been a wonderful dream? He found it so hard to believe that here he was, merely an hour before the ceremony that would bind him to another, to his beloved.

:Young master?" the voice called out in concern. The demon hastily put the crimson cloth down and pulled the dressing robe back towards himself to give modesty over his bare body.

"Hold on just a minute!" he replied back, moving to open the door. The moment his fingers touched the dark wood, electricity crawled across his skin. He started, eyes wide first in surprise, then fear as his hand jerked away from the door. He gave a cry of alarm as he felt his world yanked out right beneath his feet.

"Young master?!" The demon felt pain coursing through his body like molten lava and the demon began to scream in agony. He fell to the floor, clutching his head and it felt as if his very skull was being struck over and over again like a smith hammers steel into shape. He was being called, being summoned.

Just as the door opened, he vanished in a flash of white light.

 

* * *

 

Chaoji crept into the cellar underneath his house. Secretly he had been working over the past few months to clean it up, to make the area adequate for spell casting. Now he had just finished lighting the room with a few torches along the walls. He gathered all of his materials, checking, double checking, triple checking to make sure he had everything. Then he carefully arranged his supplies and took the old family spell book off of the table. He opened the thick volume, squinting in order to read the fine print. His lips moved as he read off the necessary supplies and instructions. After a moment he took the named items and began to make a pentagram on the floor. After consulting the book a second time, he poured things like the offered blood in the correct areas. He trembled at the thoughts of what could go wrong. Chaoji reminded himself of who he was. He was sixteen years old, and sixteen is the perfect age for him to summon a demon to help him achieve his goals. He did not doubt his ability to bind such a demon as his familiar, as a faithful being to him and all he stood for. After all, he belonged to a prestigious family of summoners, the grandson of Lady Anita. IF he could not do this, then he did not deserve the honor of being a part of the family, let alone the ambition of being the greatest of his kind.

Chaoji came to the last portion of the tasks. He pricked his finger to allow a few drops to fall in a bowl filled with red paint. He stirred it carefully with a brush, then added a  powder as pale as bone to it. Once the mixture became complete Chaoji set the bowl in the center of the floor, carefully edging the bowl with the salt. The demon would be summoned, form created by the mixture. His blood would bind the creature, and the salt would not allow it to grow any larger than a size to fit the bowl. This would protect him until he could extract an oath that the demon would not harm him. Chaoji surveyed his work, and when satisfied he lit a few candles and placed them at each point of the star. Then the teenager picked up the book, licking his lips nervously. He made sure he stood two feet from the pentagram; then he began to recite the summoning spell.

"I, Chaoji of L-Lady Anita's gifted clan, summon a demon to my side. I c-call b-by name: The White Devil, The Immortal Joker, He Who Defies Fate Itself. By my blood he is bound in flesh and cast into servitude. All that he is, I call to be me. All that he has been, is now mine." Chaoji felt a bead of sweat run down his face as power drew itself out of his body. He glanced up, feeling as if he would not be able to do the summoning after all. He reveled in triumph, however, as a black figure formed in the center of the star, a tiny shape forming from the mixture of paint and blood and power. It was working! "I name thee, Allen Walker of the Noah Clan!"

A brilliant white light flashed, blasting Chaoji back with an invisible force. He collided into a wall roughly. Dazed, the teenager blinked as the light faded. He gaped at the figure lying naked at the heart of the pentagram. A form as white as snow and as delicate as sheets of ice.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone very wrong. The demon was the size of a normal person. The bowl was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the pentagram for that matter. In the explosion caused by the summoning, it had all been cast aside. An experienced summoner would have immediately realized that it had not been a complete summoning of a demon. Chaoji was not an experienced summoner.

"It worked," Chaoji breathed. Hysteric laughter bubbled out briefly. "It really worked!"

He froze as the demon stirred, moving a little bit. Chaoji's breath caught when he saw beautiful silver eyes in an equally ethereal face. He wondered how such a childlike face looked so mature, so very angelic. It made the teenager feel a little guilty, seeing a fresh seal mar that face, just over the demon's left eye. A seal on a demon was to be expected; it was the mark of ownership on the face of a demon summoned to be one's familiar. Chaoji didn't really recall makng a deal with the demon, and had assumed that the seal would appear when a deal was struck between master and familiar. This was correct. The fact it had not was yet another indication that something had gone wrong. But Chaoji did not question what had happened, or how he had managed to bind the demon to himself without negotiating with the demon. Instead he was focused on something entirely different:

Even with that single scarring, Chaoji felt his heart beating erratically in his chest. It didn't matter that this demon probably outlived him by at least a century, or that they were different species. He was enthralled by the wispy demon, who was beautiful and yet so deadly. In that moment, his heart pined for only one, and his fate was sealed, the way the white demon's had been sealed with the scar on his face.

The demon pushed himself up on shaky arms. He sat up, silver eyes landing on the teenage summoner.

"Are you my master?" the boy asked slowly. Chaoji nodded emphatically. The white haired demon's gaze wandered around, silver irises catching the light so that they twinkled like stars. There was something brilliant and childlike, but simultaneously so empty and blank. "Then can you tell me where I am?"

"You're at my family's estate," Chaoji explained proudly, though the blush betrayed how much he was in awe of the demon. "I summoned you!"

"Can you tell me my name?"

The teenager's lips parted in shock.

"You— don't tell me you can't remember it?"

The demon shook his head. "I can't remember anything, not even my name, or anyone's face."

Chaoji swallowed down the sickness that rose up in his throat. Suddenly he was beginning to realize what he had done, the mistakes he had made. Guilt churned in his stomach as the realization developed...and he began to understand what had happened to the demon he had summoned so very selfishly. What had he done to such a miraculous creature?

"You must remember something," he insisted, trying to keep the hopelessness out of his voice. Experienced or not, it was beginning to make sense. A demon could be bound without permission if summoned for the first time, because they were vulnerable and knew nothing of the world; they could not barter for freedoms and desires. If he had not summoned the demon wholly, body, soul, mind  _memory_ , then he could easily have forced that seal. It would have been automatic. But to have caused someone to lose their precious memory. Why, it was akin to the victim losing a portion of themselves and what made him...well,  _him_. Chaoji had made a terrible, terrible error. One that he doubted could ever be rectified.

The young demon's eyes glazed over slightly as he thought about it.

"I do remember something," he finally replied. "I remember the taste of soba."

He never voiced it aloud, but what he remembered was but a wisp, something he could barely recall. In fact, it was no memory, but the lingering taste and smell of soba still on his lips. When the demon tasted his lips, it would forever be engraved upon his memory for the way it made his heart ache and weep. Where as he would never remember, his heart would. And the taste of soba followed him forever on.

 

* * *

 

 

A book lay forgotten on the floor, the pages open to the passage Chaoji had been reading on. There displayed were the words he should have said, but his nerves turned to stutters, and his pride made him skip a few words.

_I, child of Lady Anita's gifted clan, summon a demon to my side._

_I call by name: The White Devil, The Immortal Joker, He Who Defies Fate Itself._

_By my blood he is bound in flesh and cast into servitude._

_All that he is, I call to me. All that he has been, is now before mine sight. _

_I name thee, Allen Walker of the Noah Clan!_

Thus Allen Walker was summoned without memory, and all the ties between him and the Clan of Anita, and those he loved, were severed. Allen Walker had a name, a body, a mind, and a soul. But he possessed no memory beyond that which remained a mark on his heart. With the taste of soba on his lips and a strange longing in his heart, Allen Walker was born anew, in a world he did not understand, bound to a human he did not know.

 


	2. 2. Love At First Sight

** Chapter 2 **

** Love at First Sight **

_ Four years later _

The young demon allowed his summoner to hold his hand as they walked together through the soft snow drifts, wondering why the human felt so warm compared to him. It was during moments like this that Allen felt completely incompatible with his boyfriend. Simple touch did nothing for him, and yet Chaoji always insisted on it. Allen did his best to please his summoner, but he truly did not understand how the mortal could take simple pleasure from the simple joining of hands. Still, he wanted this relationship to work, and he decided to ignore the sense of wrongness he felt deep down.

They walked side by side with an amicable atmosphere about them. Chaoji smiled down at the one he claimed as his boyfriend, a small amount of worry illuminating his eyes despite the gentle expression he wore.

"You're being awfully quiet," he observed. Allen flashed him an apologetic smile.

"Forgive me; I am simply lost in my thoughts. I feel like I am forgetting something," he mused. Chaoji's expression became thoughtful as he considered the demon's response.

"It _is_ almost Christmas. You're always distant during this time of year," Chaoji murmured. He stopped abruptly, tugging Allen towards him. The young demon was startled at first, but over the last few weeks he had come to associate this actions with Chaoji taking a kiss from him. Allen blushed when his summoner leaned forward, and he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Silver eyes snapped shut, waiting for the kiss about to be bestowed upon him. Warm lips pressed against his in a chaste smooch. Allen flinched at the initial contact, feeling as if a fire had seared his lips, and tried to consume him. He did not like kissing.

A gust of wind whipped past the kissing couple, catching Allen's scarf. The young demon pulled away with a gasp as the naughty breeze tugged at his clothes. He watched as the bright scarf fluttered away, like a dragon snaking through the trees. He was relieved that such an event had halted the kiss. He apologized to Chaoji, then chased after it.

The bright green scarf danced in the wind, fluttering between the trees. It flew far, impossibly so. It was as if a demon of the wind had captured it to make Allen embark on a wild chase that drew him further and further from his summoner. Allen dimly became aware of the fact he was no longer in sight of his boyfriend. But that stray thought disappeared as soon as he found a stranger standing in the middle of the trees. Allen slowed, heart beginning to pound heavily in his chest. Long hair blew in the wintry wind, and the demon found this strange man's silhouette to be impossibly inviting. He wished to go to this person, tug on that uniform playfully, touch him; _simply bask in a familiar presence…_

The green cloth blew into the man's face. Allen watched in surprise as the man recoiled, swearing.

"What the fuck?" a rough voice growled, snatching the offending piece from his face. His scowl deepened. "Where did this even come from?"

Allen couldn't help it. He laughed.

The long haired man whipped around. Allen's smile widened when he saw the man's face. Though scowling heavily, he found the stranger's visage noble, and incredibly handsome. There were conflicts etched into every part. Shock in his eyes, sternness set in the man's jaw and mouth, hostility in the way his brows drew together. Allen loved that face the moment he saw it.

The stranger's eyes has been shocked, and then the shock morphed into doubt.

"Moyashi?" he breathed, taking a hesitant step forward. Allen frowned, irritation filling him for a brief moment. He did not know that name, but he certainly didn't like it. It felt like an insult. Or perhaps an endearment. Well, either way, he was not in the mood to be called  _moyashi_.

"Moyashi?" he repeated. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that means."

The demon then pointed to the forgotten scarf in the man's hands.

"May I have my scarf please?" he asked politely.

The Asian man looked down at it as if he had forgotten what he held. He held it out wordlessly towards Allen, handing it over with stuttering motions as if there was something else he wanted to do in place of that action. His solemn eyes didn't leave the young demon's face as Allen came forth to take it with a bright smile. That dark gaze did not look away as the demon returned his scarf about the neck once more. 

"Thank you sir."

"Kanda," the man replied automatically.

"Kanda…" Allen tried the name on his tongue. It felt natural for him to say. Too natural. He frowned. "Do I know you, sir?"

Kanda's expression didn't change, but his motions did. Instead of stiff movements, he fluidly reached out to the demon. He tied the scarf around Allen's neck more securely.

"Hold onto your scarf more securely, beansprout. Even morons like you get sick."

The demon flushed angrily, too stunned to do much beyond spluttering as the stranger brushed past him with a chuckle. When Allen found his voice again, he whirled around to face the retreating back. 

"I'm not a beansprout!" he shouted. A sense of déjà vu washed over him. Allen shivered. "Are you sure I don't know you…?"

The stranger either didn't hear or he ignored the question entirely. It left Allen feeling disconcerted. Perhaps this Kanda held the keys to the memories he had lost when Chaoji had summoned him. The demon wanted to follow the stranger, but he had the most peculiar feeling in his gut that they would meet again. Perhaps not soon, it could be years before they met again. But deep down, Allen sensed that their paths would once again cross.

"Beansprout," Allen whispered to himself. "Is that Moyashi?"

Sadness filled Allen, overwhelming him. He suddenly wished that he had followed the stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-write of a work that I did on fanfiction.net. It is greatly added to and does not fit the challenge I originally set for myself, so I hope that this is the better piece. Especially considering that my writing should have improved!


End file.
